tomato love
by hetalia13canada
Summary: romano comes home from spain's madder than usual. he swore to never like spain again, so to make sure he doesn't think of him, romano starts drinking more than he usually does. this causes italy to become worried and go talk to spain about it, hoping that spain can fix the situation.
1. Chapter 1

Romano stormed off to his house, ignoring the Spaniard pleading for him to come back. There were a lot of things he could tolerate Spain doing, but this time he had gone too far. Romano had yelled at him more than he ever had, with more anger than he had ever shown, and gave him a good hit to his face before storming off and swearing to himself he would always hate that tomato bastard. He swore he would never go to him again. He swore he would never want to go to him again. …

Romano sat up suddenly in bed a few days later. He had dreamed of Spain again. He didn't know why he couldn't get him out of his head. Romano cursed the Spanish man under his breath as he got up.

"Dammit, why won't you leave-a me alone?" he asked himself as he got dressed. He glanced out the window and saw it was still dark. Glancing at his watch, he discovered it was only five in the morning.

"Making me lose-a my sleep. Damn tomato bastard." He stripped down to his black undershirt and gray boxers again before crawling underneath the covers of his shared bed. Italy wasn't there, and it pissed Romano off that his brother was at the potato bastard's.

The next morning, Romano woke up to the smell of tomato sauce that filled the house. He rolled out of bed and dragged his feet as he walked down to the kitchen. He was greeted by a cheery Italy, cooking. And he had brought Germany with him, who was sitting at the table.

"Oh, buongiorno Romano! (good morning)" Italy said when he saw his grumpy older twin entered the kitchen.

"Ciao." Romano grumbled, then asked, "Why is the potato bastard here?"

"Romano, please don't curse." Italy begged, setting a plate of pasta in front of Germany. "And I invited him over for some breakfast. Do you want any?"

"No." Romano pushed past his brother to the cabinet and grabbed a bottle of wine and some tomatoes.

"You're drinking this early, Fratello?" Italy asked, a little concerned for his brother.

"I can-a drink whenever the hell-a I want!" Romano yelled. He stormed out to the porch and sat on the railing, his back to the house. He opened the bottle and took a long drink from it before he put it down next to him. He picked up one of the tomatoes and was about to take a bite of it when he saw Spain.

He was coming back from shopping for groceries. He didn't look over as he past Romano and Italy's house, knowing Romano was still mad at him.

"I HATE YOU TOMATO BASTARD! DON'T YOU-A COME AROUND-A HERE AGAIN!" Romano yelled, throwing the tomato at Spain, hitting him the head with it.

"I was only coming back from shopping!" Spain called back, looking over at him.

"There's another way-a you could-a go!"

"But I like going this way Lovi~!"

"Don't-a call me that bastard!" Romano threw another tomato at Spain, who only laughed and walk off to his house.

Romano grumbled and drank his wine again. It was accompanied with the two or three tomatoes he had left after throwing the other two at Spain.

Romano stumbled back into the house a few hours later with the now empty wine bottle. He saw nothing wrong with that, except that he was still thinking about Spain.

"Fratello, did you drink that entire bottle?" Italy asked as he took the bottle away from Romano and sat it on the counter.

"And what if I did? Does it even-a matter? No! And I don't-a give a damn about what you-a think." Romano grumbled as he got another bottle. Italy tried to grab it from him, but failed.

"Romano, please don't drink that."

"Why-a don't you make-a me?" Romano grumbled as took a sip of the wine.

"Why have you been drinking so much? Please stop." Italy begged, tugging on Romano's undershirt, since he had never got dressed after waking up the second time. He just took another mouthful of the wine.

"I'll stop once that fucking tomato bastard apologizes for-a what he did."

"What did he do?"

"If I told you, you'd make him apologize, and he-a has to do it himself. Now-a get, get off my shirt." Romano pryed his shirt out of his brother's grip and went to their room with the bottle of wine.

"Sto andando a uccidere la prossima volt ache ti vedo bastardo pomodora. (I'm going to kill you the next time I see you tomato bastard)" Romano growled as he sat on the edge of the bed, glaring out the window a few hours later. The second bottle was almost completely consumed. He finished it in one last gulp, then threw it at the wall, saying, "Ti adio (I hate you)!" He watched, feeling somewhat satisfied, as the bottle shattered into so many pieces as it hit the wall. He couldn't tell it was a lie that he hated Spain, but he kept telling himself he did.

Romano stumbled downstairs, going to the kitchen. He looked through the cabinets, looking for another bottle of wine. He couldn't find any, but he spotted a note where the wine should have been. He picked it up and read it. It was written in Italian, but it said:

_Freatello, I don't want you drinking so much. I took the wine away so you wouldn't drink it. Then I'm leaving for a few days after I write this so won't hurt me. Don't worry, I'm in good care. I hope you can use the alone time to calm down. I don't know why you're so mad, but I hope you'll be… back to being not so mad soon._

_ ~Italy_

Romano cursed briefly at his brother as he crumbled up the note. He threw the paper in the trash, then looked around for some more wine. Surely Italy couldn't have taken _all_ the wine. But he had. Romano just cursed more in Italian as he sat on the sofa and turned the TV on.

He watched it, not paying much attention as the alcohol left his body and he thought. He thought for a while. The more he thought, the more he got lost in his mine. Eventually, he got up, took an aspirin for his slight headache (from thinking too much, but he knew he'd need another one in the morning), and went back up to his room to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

A few days later, Italy came home, just as promised. He found Romano sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of cold coffee. He was staring at the contents of the cup, emotionless.

The whole time Italy had been away, Romano had been thinking. What's more, he had been thinking about Spain. He thought deeply about it, and he lost himself. He realized his feelings for Spain, but he couldn't admit them to himself. He thought something must be wrong with himself, and he wasn't even sure if he really was himself anymore.

"Ciao Romano." Italy cheerfully said, entering the kitchen. Romano didn't even grunt in acknowledgement. "Romano?" He tapped his older brother's shoulder, still not getting a reaction. "Are you ok?"

When Romano showed no reaction a third time, Italy started to worry more. He pulled out his cell phone and called Spain, leaving the room. He felt confident that if anyone could help his brother, it was Spain.

"Hola." the Spaniard said after the second ring.

"Something's wrong with Fratello. Do you know why?"

"What's wrong with Lovi~?" Spain sounded a bit worried.

"He's not doing anything. Veh, he didn't even yell at me when I tapped him. I'm worried about him.

"What is he doing now?"

"He's sitting at the table, staring at coffee."

"How long has he been doing that?"

"I don't know." Italy looked over at Romano. "Hey Romano?" No response. "Romano?" He sighed and went back to his conversation with Spain. "He won't answer me."

"You wanna meet somewhere?"

"I'll be over in a few minutes. Should I bring Romano?"

"If he wants to come, I suppose you can."

"~Veh, ok! I'll see you in a bit then."

"Adiós until then." Italy hung up his phone and put it back in his pocket as he went back to the kitchen.

"Hey Romano, I'm going over to Spain's. You wanna come?" he carefully asked his brother.

Romano was silent again, but as Italy was leaving, he quietly murmured, "Don't talk to me about that tomato bastard." Even though it was barely as loud as a whisper, it seemed every word was filled with hatred.

"O-ok. I-I won't." Italy was both scared and happy when Romano spoke again. He left the house and ran down to Spain's house. He knocked loudly on the door until Spain answered it.

"Ah, that was fast Italy." Spain said as he moved to the side to let Italy into his home. He led him to his kitchen and both sat at the table. "So, what's wrong with Lovi~?"

"Well, one day he came home really mad. He drank all night. He always had a bottle of wine with him. He got drunk every day. He yelled and cursed more until I took all the wine away and brought it to Doitsu's a few days ago. And when I came home, he was quiet, and I was afraid he would yell more than he ever has before. But when he spoke, it was calm, but filled with hate. Veh, it scared me."

"When did this start?"

Italy thought for a moment, trying to remember. "Uh….oh! The last time he went to see you."

"The last time he saw me…"

"Yeah."

'_The last time Lovi~ came to visit, he hadn't let on the best of terms with me._' Spain thought to himself. '_I thought he would like the attention. Of course, he never _did_ tell if he liked me that way or not… He still likes me though, he has to!_'

"So will you?" Italy was saying.

"I'm sorry. Will I what?"

"Help Romano."

"Of course I will. You may want to stay somewhere else for a while, in case things get nasty."

"Veh~! OK Spain."

"Ok, I'll see you later Italy." He pat Italy's head before grabbing some ripe tomatoes for Romano and walking over to their house.


	3. Chapter 3

The house was dark when Spain got there. He knocked on the door. There was no response. "Romano! Open the door my pocode tomate (little tomato)!" Spain called out as he knocked again. There was no response again. Spain sighed and took out a key to the house and unlocked the door.

"Romano?" he asked, closing the door behind him. He remembered Italy said he had been sitting at the table, staring at coffee, so he decided to check the kitchen first. Sure enough, Romano was sitting there in the dark, holding a cup of coffee in his hands, staring right at it.

"Romano?" Spain cautiously asked.

"Get out of my house tomato bastard." Romano quietly growled at him. His voice sounded a bit slurred to Spain. Funny, Spain thought Italy had taken all the wine, and he knew that was the only alcohol they had.

"What's in that cup?" Spain asked, leaning over Romano and grabbing the coffee mug. Romano wouldn't let go of it, so Spain brought the cup up with Romano's hands and smelled the coffee. "Where did you get the wine tomate?" Spain asked, smelling the wine in it.

"Nowhere bastardo." Romano grumbled, pulling the spiked coffee back down to take a sip. He kept a stash of wine in a hidden part of the cellar that not even Italy knew about.

"Stop drinking so much Romano." Spain said as he took the drink away from him and poured it down the sink. He sat down across from Romano and took his hand, much to the Italian's disapproval.

"Lasciarmi andare bastardo. (let go of me, bastard)" Romano grumbled, trying to tug his hand back. Spain wouldn't let go and took on a serious tone.

"You can't keep drinking like this. You're hurting yourself, worrying Feli, worrying me… whatever the matter is, you can do something else." Spain caught sight of Romano's curl, and had a sudden urge to just brush his finger against it, but he knew that would lead to other things that Romano had yelled at him for last time.

"Why are you being so difficult?" Spain continued. "Dinking so much, yelling and cursing for no reason, then being silent. I want to know what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong you bastard." Romano knew exactly why he was acting this way. He wouldn't tell Spain though, since it was his fault he felt the way he did.

"Something's wrong. Keeping it in won't help you. It will just keep eating at you until you can't take it anymore. Why did you start doing this; what's the matter Romano?" Spain pried, getting up and standing next to him, keeping his hand in his grip.

"It's none-a your business." Romano told him, looking away.

"It probably is." Spain moved in so his face was right in front of Romano's. He whispered, "Por favor, dígame. (please tell me)"

"G-get out of my-a face, tomato b-bastard." Romano quietly said, a little uncomfortable with Spain's closeness.

"Por favor?" Spain quietly whispered. Romano only shook his head slightly. "Per favore?" Spain made the simple transition to Romano's native language. He still refused to talk, only shaking his head and backing away from Spain. Spain only moved closer, putting his hands on the back of Romano's chair and either side of him. "Por favor, mi tomate?" Spain whispered, looking deep into Romano's eyes.

After a minute or so, Romano couldn't take it anymore.

"Dannazione, è perché ti amo, bastardo pomodoro! (Dammit, it's because I love you, tomato bastard)" Romano yelled at Spain. He crossed his arms and looked away, his face growing red. Spain chuckled a bit and kissed Romano's check.

"That's what this was all about? You could have just told me mi tomate." He gently caressed Romano's check.

"Y-you hurt me. I-a didn't want it to-a happen again." Romano mumbled.

"I won't hurt you again Romano. And I'm so sorry about before. I didn't know I was hurting you." Spain nuzzled Romano's neck.

"Hey, c-cut it out bastardo." Romano told him, attempting to push his head away. He wasn't trying very hard to though.

"But I love you and want you to forgive me. I promise I won't hurt you again, ok mi tomate? I won't. I swear." Spain kissed Romano's neck gently, making Romano blush a bright red.

"Th-this isn't the way-a to get me to forgive-a you."

"Then how _will_ you forgive me?" Spain stopped kissing Romano's neck and looked at Romano, smiling at his red face.

"I have to know that you won't-a hurt me like-a before."

"How would I do that?"

"I-I-I don't-a know! How about you figure it out-a yourself!" Romano pushed Spain away from himself as he stood up. "I-I have to know that you-a won't." He started to leave and go up to his room, but Spain grabbed him and held him close to himself before he could leave.

"Romano, yo nunca podría hacerte dano. Lo siento mucho lo hice, y nunca más lo hará. Te quiero. No quiero ningún daño a venor a usted. Por favor, créanme, porque estoy diciendo la verdad a mi tomate. (Romano, I could never hurt you. I'm really sorry I did, and I never will again. I love you. I don't want any harm to come to you. Please believe me, because I'm telling you the truth.)" Spain spoke softly and sweetly to Romano, and when the later was taking a minute to register the spainish, Spain cupped his chin, titling his head up and gave him a gentle, sweet kiss.

Romano was a bit caught off guard by the Spaniard's actions and didn't respond. But he didn't break away or start cussing at Spain when he pulled back.

"So, do you forgive me?" Spain asked after a moment of silence.

"Not if you ever-a do it again you hijo de puta tomate perfecto.(perfect tomato bastard)" Romano mumbled. Spain smiled widely at the rare, sort-of compliment from Romano.

"Thank you tomato." Romano only grumbled under his breath at the nickname. Spain kissed him again, but this time Romano kissed him back.

"Hey, I know you said not to come, but I needed to get some le-" Italy's voice stopped as he walking in on his brother and Spain kissing in the kitchen. Though, when he came in, Romano broke the kiss and glared a bit at his brother.

"Don't you-a know better than to just-a walk into a damn room?" he asked, Spain still holding him.

"Veh~! You got him back to himself! Grazie Spain!" Italy bounced over and hugged both of them, smiling broadly.

Spain laughed and hugged Italy too after patting his head. "You're welcome Italy. I would do anything to help my little Lovi~." He kissed the top of Romano's head, causing him to grumble and blush a bit since his brother was there.

"Well, I'll see you two tomorrow." Italy said, letting go of the two and grabbing some leftover pasta.

"Where do you think you're-a going Veneziano?" Romano asked. Spain still had his arm around his shoulder, so he didn't move.

"Oh, I'm staying at Doitsu's!" Italy cheerily said before leaving.

"That potato bastard, ruining him. Once I get my hands on him-"

"Oh don't worry about it right now. He'll be just fine." Spain rubbed Romano's arm as he spoke. "Now, when's the last time you had a decent meal, huh? And I brought you some tomatoes." He let go of Romano and gave him the fruit. "Because I know my little tomate loves tomatoes." He gently rubbed his nose against Romano's. "Now, I'm going to make you something."

"Ok, whatever." Romano grumbled. Spain went to cooking, and Romano sat back down and ate the ripe tomatoes, watching Spain cook for him. After a few minutes, Spain had finished cooking. He set some of it down on the table and sat across from Romano.

"You know, I'm so happy you told me." Spain said after a few minutes of eating.

"Yeah, just don't rub it in, OK?" Romano grumbled.

"I'll try not to my little tomato."

"Tomato bastard."

When they finished eating, Spain helped Romano clean the dishes. When they were cleaned, Spain brought Romano to the living room and sat him on his lap. Romano grumbled, but stopped when Spain kissed him. Spain grabbed the remote and turned the T.V. on. He changed the channel until he found Dancing with the Stars.

"Why are we watching this?" Romano asked.

"I love watching people dance almost as much as I love dancing myself. Of course, I could never love them as much as I love you." He kissed Romano's check.

"Whatever." Romano mumbled.

"Can you say it, just once? Por favor, para mí? (please, for me?)"

"You say it first."

"I already did."

"I-in a sentence. Say it again-a."

"Ok. I never get tired of confessing my love to you anyway." He kissed Romano again, then told him, "I love you poco de tomate~ (little tomato)"

"I love you too tomato bastard."

"Can you give me a kiss?"

"A kiss?"

"Sí. You love me."

"Fine." Romano took Spain's head between his hands and kissed him. Spain enjoyed it, and grabbed the back of Romano's head, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

When they need to breathe, Spain broke the kiss and saw a blushing Romano. Spain chuckled and went back to watching Dancing with the Stars.

Around an hour later, when the program ended, Romano fell asleep in Spain's lap. When Spain noticed, he smiled and carried him up to his room and laid him in the bed.

"Dormir bien mi coc de tomate. (Sleep well my little tomato)" Spain whispered as he gently kissed Romano's forehead. He then left off to his house.

From then on, Romano was back to his usual grumpy self, save the fact that was willing to be loving with Spain every now and then. ~~

* * *

_a/n sorry if the translations are wrong. i got them from google and i know that's not real realiable_


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